


Obey Me! Warmup Drabbles

by Angelblaze



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alley Sex, Choking, Collars, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, First Time, Foot Jobs, Gen, Lube, M/M, Masturbation, OOC, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phone Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, human degradation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelblaze/pseuds/Angelblaze
Summary: Using a game I only play once in a blue moon and skip all the cut-scenes for as a warmup? Madness.Edit: 2/12/2021. Added warning tags for reader assault in chapter 8.
Relationships: Barbatos/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 260





	1. Beelzebub 1 - Oral [F]

**Author's Note:**

> Note: If you'd like, you can comment with an MC name and I'll name the MC after you for a drabble. Can't promise I'll update too often but it wouldn't be good practice without names...

She skitters through the open door of the kitchen and checks the hallway one more time for any signs she’s been followed, then shuts it behind her.

A weight tumbles off of her shoulders and she sinks a bit against the door, thighs squeezing together. The clock reads one in the morning. Normally, time wouldn’t be a barrier to demons, but behest Lucifer's polite request, everyone else in the House of Lamentation is asleep — or pretending to be.

Or in the case of Beelzebub, waiting beside the island.

“You’re late.”

A sharp comeback dies in her throat when Beelzebub lifts her by the waist and sits her down on the smooth, cold surface. She grips his shoulders on instinct and her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth. Still not as tall as him, the top of her head barely touches his chin.

Beelzebub isn’t as enchanted with his strength as she is and immediately drops to his knees in front of her.

“Lie back.” Plain and curt.

She swallows down a painful lump in her throat and does as ordered. Three days ago Beelzebub had come to her with a strange request.

“How do your insides taste?”

She squeaked and scurried from the room, not to be seen again until the next day. He’d been fiending for another snack and spotted her between classes in a hallway near the pantry, standing on a stepladder and untying Mammon from one of the ceiling fans.

“Hey, hey—! Careful, I’m sensitive.”

“This happens like a once a week, how can you still be sensitive to it?”

“Delicate, then.”

“Well, toughen up. I gotta undo this the hard way.”

Beelzebub tugged on the edge of her school skirt. She paused, eyes widening to horror and fear before blinking away. No doubt remembering when she’d avoided answering him.

“Are you busy?”

“She’s busy helping yours truly.”

She scoffed. “I’m not doing anything important, what’s up?”

“I asked you how your insides taste.”

“Damn it.” She breathed and hid her face in the fabric of Mammon’s jeans beside his calf.

“I always knew you’d graduate to cannibalism someday,” Mammon smirked.

“Asmodeus showed me a site about eating people in a nice way, I wanted to try it.”

“Can’t you find another demon?” She whispered into her hands.

“I figured humans had a different flavor.”

She jumped down from the ladder and, to the screaming of Mammon, ran out of the hallway.

Beelzebub was half a mind to follow her; it was rare to find something new to taste in the Devildom, and a special sort of heartbreaking to watch a potential meal simply skitter away. He raided the fridge, turned on the hallway fan, and tried to find her to no avail. Twice after that, he’d tried to cut her off but she’d abandoned her plans at the sight of him and retreated back to her room.

Beelzebub clicked his tongue. It was getting annoying. He was half a mind to stop asking.

Towards the end of that same day, his phone burred to life beside him on the pantry floor.

_‘You’re clearly not giving up this whole ‘eating me’ thing. So listen up, I need to tell you how to do it properly so that you don’t hurt me. No biting okay?’_

_‘I know that much.’ He growls through grit teeth._

_‘And we can’t get caught.’_

_‘I don’t really care-’_

_‘Yes, but I do and we’re going to do this by my rules or not at all.’_

He agreed through gritted teeth. Sometime after that, she gave him a time and a date; three days, when no one else was awake, she would let him taste her.

That time was finally now. Beelzebub pushes up the black pencil skirt, a piece of clothing worn only when she’s helping Lucifer, to her upper thighs. He lowers her panties, some adorable flower print, to her ankles. It aches him to have to go through all this ritual, but after her worry that he would just sink his teeth into a part so sensitive, its a necessary evil. All he has to do is keep toying wit that little nub, see what ‘works’ and what doesn’t.

According to her, he’ll understand when it happens.

Beelzebub grazes his finger against her lips before parting them and kissing her cilt. As per her explanations. The noise she makes is heavenly and makes all the waiting all the more worth it. He tests out a simple touch and grazes his tongue against her cilt once, twice, three times and every time she purrs. He assumes that’s how he ‘knows’.

Her toes are curling from the raw pleasure and ecstasy of it. The cold island against her back is warming up and her voice threatens to escape and alert the others of what they’re doing.

Beelzebub bores of it already and draws little circles on her cilt. He wants whatever comes at the end of it, that liquid or squirt or whatever Asmodeus had been talking about.

She whimpers, body twisting as she runs a hand through those ginger tresses. Beelzebub’s tongue does magic, slurping to get whatever flavor it is he’s claiming to chase.

One strong hand grips her trembling thigh and holds her apart. His tongue slowly penetrates her quivering pussy, pausing only when she yelps. When she looks down, Beelzebub is glaring at her through those burning hot eyes that scream that he knows, he must know, what he’s doing to her.

She smooths her hands under the loose blue shirt and toys with her breasts while Beelzebub fucks her with his tongue, his thrusts, and movements so careful and smooth that her head rolls to the side in bliss. Needy heat pools in the pit of her stomach. Her orgasm rolls through her, starting at the tips of her toes and spreading out until she’s clenching and sobbing, barely audible above Beelzebub’s hungry moans, her stomach tightening with every wave of it.

Beelzebub makes an animalistic noise that scorches her, shoots a shiver up her spine. He detaches from her, rising to full height to snatch her trembling waist and lift her up until her ass is hanging off the island.

“Don’t you dare fucking move.” Her entire lower body is supported only by his weight, to keep her still and in place while he licks her insides.

She clamps both her hands over her drooling mouth, her mind too muddled by want to realize she’s muffling her own pleas for him to slow down. Beelzebub set up a brutal rhythm, flicking his tongue in and out of her pussy before relocating and taunting that little warm, hard nub some more.

Her voice breaks free as she trembles and, with a pleading mewl so pathetic she wants to hit herself for it, she squirts. A wave of wet dribbles down Beelzebub’s chin.

Fuck if that wasn’t exactly what Beelzebub spent his days fantasizing about. He sets her back down on the island, slow to not ruin her ‘high’, and swipes at his chin. It’s a different taste than what he was expecting and given how lies there, breathless and open for minutes, only he’ll have to get again very soon.


	2. Lucifer 1 - Phone Sex/Guided Masturbation [M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit it: I'm a basic bitch, forever weak to vocal dom Lucifer.

You’re sitting in your room, school finished and abandoned by your bedside. Loose jeans and a blue t-shirt. What would the chances of absolute chaos be if you went and sought out Mammon right now?

It’s better than staring at the ceiling doing absolutely nothing. Which is what you’re doing now.

The phone whirs to life on your side table and you’ve never been in a happier mood to receive bad news. Sadly, it’s only Lucifer.

_Lucifer: Have you finished all of your assignments for the day?_

You’re hesitant to tell him that you’ve finished your entire schedule of work for the week. Why risk Lucifer going even harder on you?

_You: Yes._

_Lucifer: Good, I’m merely checking in._

You ponder the benefits and consequences of bringing up your plight to him. What are the chances he has something exciting to do that wouldn’t be you helping him around the office?

Slim to none. Still, anything’s better than lying down and waiting for the world to simply take you.

_You: Hey Lucifer, I’m bored._

A long pause in communication is to be expected. You're half expecting a ‘well, get over it and don’t disappoint Diavolo :<’ as a response.

It vibrates again.

_Lucifer: Might I be of assistance?_

_You: Sure, what do you have in mind?_

_Lucifer: Call me._

God willing, its something exciting to do in this boring hellhole of a household that, if it not boring is tense, and if not either of those things, painfully predictable.

There’s only so many times you can preemptively stop Beezlebub from raiding the fridge before you begin to see a pattern.

“Hello, Lucifer.”

“Afternoon. Bored?”

“Beyond words.”

“Lucky for you, I am also incredibly, incredibly bored and I wanted to try something out,” Lucifer says. A click says he’s locked the door to his office, what the hell could he possibly be doing? You didn’t have the slightest clue. “Before we begin though, I have to preface this with an important point.”

“Sure, I’m all ears.”

“If I hear from any of my brothers about this I won’t kill you, but you will wish I had.”

Oh. You swallow. The two locked doors and half the mansion away and there’s not enough room to feel safe from that.

“Of course I won’t tell anyone, sir.”

The line goes dead quiet and your half expecting the door to come tearing off the hinges. Instead, Lucifer returns. “Sir.” Lucifer’s voice is a lion's growl. It sinks low and bites into your core. “I think I like that. Say it again.”

“Sir.”

“Again.”

“Sir.”

“Again, slut.”

Holy shit. Your entire chest flutters at hearing that.

“Sir.”

“Mmmm…”

You suck in a much-needed breath and sit there, paralyzed as if Lucifer was in the room with you.

“I wonder how I’d take you apart, little slut. Do you think about it often?”

You shiver. A hundred different nights where images and thoughts of the boys sent your hand stroking up and down your cock with your teeth in your pillow, praying at least one of them would break the tension. On your worst nights, you hoped all of them would, but Lucifer made appearances more than most.

Always a little more intimate, a little more personable.

“Play along why don’t you?”

Your heart lurches. This is happening, you’re having phone sex with Lucifer and your stomach is alight with a million feelings.

“Yes, sir.” You whisper.

“Good. Though, it's not like you’d have a choice since, despite all your grandstanding, you are such a small little thing. We’d have to get you out of those pants first…”

Lucifer would rush you, your back would hit the wall with a hard thunk. The breath knocked free from your lungs you’d blink back stunned tears while Lucifer got to work. Deft, gloved hands easily pulling your belt free, unbuckling your pants, and pushing them to the floor.

You sink against the bed headboard, body straightening to pull your pants down the rest of the way. This is going someplace and you’re not sure if you want to go there, but you’re sure as hell not stopping it.

Lucifer’s gloved hands around the curve of your ass before digging in so hard that the sharp nails dug into your cheeks, leaving bright crescent marks. Crimson eyes staring down at you, taking in your form and face. Small and weak and fragile in his arms. To do with whatever he pleased.

“Mmm…keep the shirt on, for now. I’m not patient enough for that.” Lucifer sighs. He’s probably slumped down in his office chair with work he couldn’t be asked to care about on a good day piled to the ceiling. Stuck in an office he never meant to be in, doing things he never wanted to do, craving a better way to pass the time.

He needs this as much as you do.

“I—how can I be good for you?” you ask, voice a squeak compared to his growl.

Another stretch of silence. The cold air damn near stings your thighs and every moment you don’t hear his voice is another moment you feel painfully alone. When you’re about to pull the phone away to check that he hasn’t just given up and hung up on you, he hums.

“Put the phone on speaker. Get some lube, prepare your cock for me.”

Oh god shit, fuck—your hands tremble as you put the speaker on and you double-check, triple check, to make sure that you haven’t accidentally hung up. Then you roll to the side, feet awkwardly bunched up in your rolled down jeans, and retrieve a jar of strawberry flavored lube that Asmodeus had gifted you. The lust demon probably imagined being the first to use it.

Lucifer seems keen to ensure otherwise.

You set it on the side table and return to the bed with your damned hands still shaking because this is happening. You manage to get a good amount of lube around your hand and you sink into against the headboard again as you stroke your already half-hard cock to life.

“Cumming already? Without me?”

“I won’t, sir.”

“I mean that by the way. Don’t you dare fucking cum.” The growl that comes from him makes your hips jerk forward. “Not a fucking drop. You hold that load until I say you can blow and then when I decide I’ll tell you. But don’t stop stroking.”

Fuck, you roll your hand up and down your now aching length. Lucifer would look down at you. Would he be the one jerking your cock or would you simply stand there, needy and pathetic, following his orders just as you are now? Stroking yourself to completion and begging for him without him even touching your dick?

Your body’s in a cold sweat.

“Please, please sir don’t stop.”

“Mmm…I like that you know to keep calling me sir. Keep stroking, think of me gracing you with my hand. I’d hold you still while teasing that flushed head of yours until it weeps.”

Fuck yes, Lucifer’s hand curling around your cock while you struggled to stay upright. Pre-cum joins the lube on your hand, imagining Lucifer’s ever pleased, sadistic smile as he strokes you slowly. Your hand wants to pace up and down in something quick and brutal, but Lucifer doesn't rush. He never rushes anything unless he’s upset, and you've behaved. You get his slow movements, those searing red orbs staring intently at you as he rolls his hand up and down your cock.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your skin. Every part of your body trembles with the hot wave about to crash over you and out of you.

Soon, those black gloves shine with pre-cum and your hips roll both in your imagination and reality. Your balls are full of cum and Lucifer only continues to tease—

“Sir, sir can I cum?”

“Did I tell you you could?”

“N-no.”

“Then no. Play with your glans and your head, no more stroking until I feel you’ve earned it.”

You follow his cruel instructions to a tee, panting at how close your release feels, how damn hard your cock is, and how flushed you are. You bite on your lip, the only noise coming from you being the soft, hurried breaths that made their way through your nose.

He plays with your foreskin, only giving you the smallest stroke in the most sensitive part under the head and every now again he gifts you with a brush of his gloved thumb over your needy head.

“Sir, sir how can I earn it, I can’t—” You bite back desperate plea into a whimpering low one.

“Keep toying with yourself. Slow down if you need to. Don’t stop, but don’t cum. If you cum I won’t fuck you.”

You slow to a snail's pace. Is that the plan? For you to push yourself to the very edge, until your cock is leaking cum all across your bedsheets only for Lucifer to come knocking on your door, offering to finish you off?

“You have no idea, the noises you make.” Lucifer wonders breathlessly. “I wonder if I could get you to make those noises more often — would you like that? If I strapped those needy hands to the headboard, held your knees to your ears, and fucked your slutty ass raw?”

“Yes, sir.” You say on a shuddering breath. You just slowed down and his voice is shoving you back onto the edge of orgasm. "I'd love that, please do that to m-me.

“Knew you’d like that. You’re so strong for not cumming yet. Don’t cum. Hold onto that release for me.” Lucifer’s voice melds into a sweet and gentle caress. “When I’m done here I’ll give you a little reward for being such an obedient little slut. Are you still teasing your head?”

“Yes, sir.” You say, head lulling aside. Stray hair strands stick to your forehead, your cock aches for release, the entire room is overheating and melting. Lucifer is looking down at you with that evil smile that’s an unspoken promise to do you in.

“You can stroke yourself now. Stroke yourself until you cum all over yourself like a fucking whore.”

“T-thank you, sir.” Your voice goes shaky as you finally, finally wrap your full palm around your dick and drive your hand up and down the shaft over and over again until your vision goes fucking sideways. Lucifer’s voice pours through the phone, his praises and your moans mix together into something your lust ridden mind can’t decipher.

When you cum your voice is a broken plea for mercy, cock spurting jets of heated cum against your upper chest, a stray jet hits the bottom of your chin.

You keep going until the sensitivity becomes too much to bear and you roll to the side, shivering and spent.

“[Y/N], are you asleep?”

“No.”

“Good. Take a picture of yourself, send it to me. Don’t you dare clean any of that load off.”

Your trembling lube-slick hand grasps the phone on the side table and drags it over. You snap a few pictures of your cum covered clothes. A notable tremor racks your stomach as you send them off to Lucifer.

He hums sweet approval.

“Good job. What a perfect little harlot you are. What I wouldn’t give to have you in this office, crawling underneath my desk and sucking my cock…”

“I’d love to be there, sir.” You say, rolling onto your side.

“Oh? I’ll remember that…”

You bite back a moan.

“Well, this was delightful. Get some rest before tomorrow. You’ll need it.”


	3. Leviathan 1 - Blowjob/Foot-fucking [M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I was trying to write it as if Levi wanted to be dommed and was pushing MC to do so but MC is actually clueless. I don't know if I got it exactly right, but I tried.

You’re lying against the bed in some slacks and a t-shirt. A hint of nervous energy courses through you as you watch the clock. It’s almost eight p.m. The television at the foot of your bed plays some anime channel that you’re shocked exists in the Devildom, but given the insane premises and low production values aren’t completely sure plays actual shows.

There’s a light knock at your door and you bolt upright, all but leap across the room and tear it open.

Leviathan stands there, arms laden with small chip bags and a blanket. He takes one look at you and his beautiful gold eyes flicked downward. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“I didn’t think you’d come.” That's not entirely true. If Leviathan didn’t come you’d simply go to his room. It's not like he’d be anywhere else, but you’d prefer it if he came to you.

You’re not fucking him in a bathtub.

“I was getting kind of bored of playing Animal Crossing.” He giggles nervously, eyes still darting everywhere but your face. 

You texted him hours ago, suggesting he come to your room to spend time together. At first, he was reluctant to do so, with the obvious subtext being that you are definitely, definitely going to try to fuck him. If your obvious winking emojis didn’t tip him off, Asmo did. After you suggested anime though, he gave you a simple ‘yes’ and let you set the date and time. 

You let him in and he shuffles past you. He’s like a kid entering a new person’s house for the first time, especially when he stands by the foot of your bed instead of sitting down as if waiting for permission.

On one hand that’s fucking adorable, on the other you don’t like how put up he looks. 

You sit first and decide that if he doesn't know what to do, you'll just have to guide him a bit. 

“Here, like this.” 

You pat the space between your legs and Levi seems nervous at first, but then he crawls over your legs and into the spot. 

It’s an awkward situation, with you leaning back with your head almost pressing into the headboard, but it's worth it to see the white waistband of Levi’s underwear peeking up just over his jeans and to feel that ass pressing up against your lower thighs in all the right ways. The sight makes your mouth water.

You both waste a few minutes silently watching the screen—Levi’s ramrod still and you could read the tension lingering in his body. 

“I like you.” 

You didn’t intend for the words to come out like that, but Levi hums at hearing them. 

You reach around and graze your hands against that tight sea-green blue shirt. He’s not built like some of his brothers; not a lot of muscle to speak off, but he’s so damnably tone. Is it because he doesn’t eat or is he just blessed with it? Either way, you run your hands across the front of his shirt, then underneath it and up, up to those nipples—that are already hard by the time you start touching them. 

The little note that Levi makes is precious and goes straight to your cock. It’s so hard to move your hips at this angle, what you wouldn’t give to spin him around and have him bounce up and down, look you straight in the eyes as he impales himself on you. Maybe even reach down and spread out his ass to just slide on, too hot, and too perfect for his own good. 

“Fuck.” Levi slaps one hand down over his mouth. In seconds he shifts the way he’s sitting, going from his legs being crossed in front of him to pushing up against you. He grinds his ass against the front of your slacks and hardening cock and fuck if he isn’t the most delicious piece of ass you’ve ever seen. 

You rest your chin in the crook of Levi’s neck, right where it meets the shoulder. He’s so warm and soft and pliant. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re too kind,” Levi says, one of his palms shifts down to grind at the front of his own pants. It must be so hard in those jeans, but the idea of Levi’s cock leaking, aching in them is so goddamn enticing that you don’t make a move to free him. 

You kiss the spot on his neck where your head just was. His skin is soft and delicious. A faint bit of sweat mixed with a soapy cinnamon scent. Ever since you’ve entered the Devildom you’ve dreamed of having him and now he’s pushing himself up against you, almost like he’s in a rut. 

Somehow his hips hit different on a grind and you breathe a heated breath into his neck, all your control simply snaps. Months and months of waiting, of wanting, and now Levi’s teasing you with that beautiful ass of his. Enough is enough. 

You suckle and nibble on that same stretch of neck. Little half-second mewls and unintelligible pleas fall from his lips. Your hands wander down to those pesky fucking jeans. You’re beyond sick of them at this point, they’re in the way. You tear through the belt and yank it off of Levi’s lithe hips, that shake as you do so. 

Levi gets the point, pushes his body against yours as he hooks his own hands against the offending clothes and peels them off and away, revealing his bright red briefs with that plain white waistband and that leaking bulge you’ve always dreamed about. 

Instead of crawling back onto your lap though, he sticks by the foot of the bed and lies on his side. You can see his pretty golden eyes, the top of his chest through the slacking fabric of his blue shirt and the bulge contrasting right beneath it. 

“Can’t watch the show from down there.” You say, working past the desperate, needy feeling in your chest. 

“I’ve already seen it,” Levi says dismissively, eyes trailing down your chest, the slope of your stomach to the hard bulge in your loose pants. 

“I don’t know what…to say or do.” Levi’s hands clasp together.

“What do you want to do?”

“I want…” Golden eyes flicker around the room again, cheeks burning red and face unsure and questioning of everything. “I wanna choke on it.” 

Oh.

Oh fuck.

You exhale just to work off all of the fucking hell those words just put you through. 

Levi peels your slacks down to your lower thighs and frees your cock. He stares at the heated flesh like he’s intimidated. You snort and brush a hand against his cheek. 

Just when you think he’s simply in too deep for his own good, he wraps his lips around your cock and takes in every inch you have in one easy swoop. It’s so wet and hot it makes you hit your head against the board. Fuck the dreams you’ve had that have been nothing but this. 

Levi comes back up easy with those pretty pink lips attached to your cock by a long line of spit. His hand strokes languidly as he looks you in the eye for what must be the first time tonight. 

“I wanna go fucking braindead on your dick, Daddy,” Levi whispers, eyes half-lidded as he slaps your spit slathered cock against his cheek. “I want it to rearrange my insides and turn me into a worthless little slut.” 

Fucking hell. You roll your hand over your face and through your messy hair. Leviathan is asking you to wreck him. Fuck, he’s probably felt how you have for a while. 

“Keep gagging on it.”

“Make me.” 

He says it with such stark confidence it feels like a challenge, so you do. You curl your fingers into thought blue locks and push that pretty mouth back on your cock. Leviathan doesn’t fight you, he glides down so smooth and never breaks that burning eye contact. Every part of him is a seductive mess. Makes you wonder if you got him and Asmo mixed up. 

With a vibrating groan, Levi steals the thoughts from your head. He’s a dangerous one. You pull him back up and he bites his lip, eyes narrowing at you. 

“Please, please blow your fat load on my face, I need it I’ve always needed it.” 

How could you deny him? You push him back down, all the way down until he gags twice, his throat constricting tight around your cock. You pull him back up again, watching thick lines of spit cover his mouth and chin. Over and over again, you fuck his throat like he's built for it. His eyes roll back a touch every time he goes down a little too fast, but the filthy sounds he makes in-between are beyond anything you've dreamed.

His hand ducks underneath the waistband of his briefs and he starts rubbing his own cock. His tongue slurps against your flesh as if he’s addicted to your flavor. His cute ass is wiggling back and forth like he’s taunting you with it. 

Your stomach and balls tighten and tense up as your orgasm hits you like a truck. You go still, body seizing you paint Levi’s open mouth and face with some pretty impressively thick ropes of cum.

He licks his lips clean and shows you all he’s collected sitting on his tongue, then swallows and shows you his empty mouth. 

Fuck, he is wonderful…

“Yeah…” His voice is breathy and quiet. He gets up and rests against the foot of the bed, legs spread, and showing his hand languidly stroking his clothed and leaking cock. The front of his underwear is damp with it. 

You don’t move, not wanting to take your eyes off of his cum-ruined hair and face, and those swollen used lips. Somehow you must’ve missed a signal or something, he stops stroking and crawls back towards you.

“What? You want me to suck you off?”

Levi’s face is bright pink.

“Can you? Can you…with your foot?” 

That’s strange, but if it’s for Levi you’ll do whatever you can. Especially if it means seeing him melt. You present your foot, not wanting to risk kicking him and he positions himself right in front of it, then pushes his hips until he can grind his cock against your foot. 

His long lashes flutter, bangs sticking to his face next to cum that would be drying, be it not for the sweat slicking his skin. He grinds against your foot like a man possessed like all self-control has snapped and been left to the wind. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful.” 

“Please more, talk more—.” 

“I want to push you onto the ground and make you take my cock in your ass, as deep as it will go. I want to blow my load inside and spank you while you cry and beg for more—” 

“Yes, yes I’m yours, I’m yours.” His voice is nearly shouting before he clutches your leg and his hips stutter through his final, brutal hip thrusts. His heated, sticky cum drips against your foot. His underwear is fucking ruined and so’s the rest of him. You dedicate the image of him, blissed out and fucked up, to memory. 

He doesn’t move for a couple minutes, so you take the initiative and touch his shoulder. 

“Hey, you okay?”

Levi blinks a couple times. He’s wavering, shaking like he’s hanging by a thread. It takes a couple more times of asking before he’s fully able to nod. You kiss his cheek and bring him back down with you onto the back. Levi slowly settles and curls back against you, silent as ever.


	4. Mammon 1 - First Time [F]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HC: Mammon is the best boyfriend out of all of the boys. Not necessarily the smartest or the strongest or the sexiest w/e, but he's the best boyfriend package.

You sit on the edge of your bed. The air seems heated and tense even now. 

The door opens and Mammon’s there, his brown and white jacket slung over his arm and golden sunglasses tucked inside. His brows are knit, though his eyes soften when he sees you there, in a floral dress you picked out because you figured you might as well get dolled up. 

Your hands clench each other in your lap. Mammon’s quick to come to your side and smooth his fingers through your hair. He kicks off his boots before he settles down beside you. For once the wild house is silent and its a wonder how long it will stay that way.

It was a nervous affair. A long time had passed with you in the Devildom and getting accustomed to the madness that seemed to plague the House and the seven boys inside. Every week visited by some new fleeting trouble, and every week ending with you growing a little closer to the seven brothers. 

You first found it awkward or even frightful to speak with them, then developed a sense of mutual understanding and then, a sense of affection for Mammon that didn’t quite ‘click’ with the rest of the brothers. What could it possibly have been? Perhaps you saw a sense of kinship with him. 

Mammon was treated no better than a whipping boy, beaten, bruised, and tossed about by his own brothers with startling, worrying frequency. On your end, nary a night passed where your phone wasn’t blowing up with some sort of drama or argument or new magical nonsense that you would have to deal with. 

One night you’re slumped against the island in the kitchen, desperately trying to wipe whatever godforsaken slop managed to work its way into your clothes. Mammon, clad in a slime stained jacket, walked inside and slumped right down next to you. Both of you clean up in a steady silence. It’d been a long day.

Mammon swiped at your blue shirt with a damp washcloth. 

“I’m sorry.” 

To say you’d been caught off guard was an understatement. 

“Was this your fault?”

“No. I mean, yeah?” Mammon pulls a face, rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

No, you didn’t. You shook your head and Mammon clicks his tongue. 

“Your job is to basically keep things peaceful and you have to deal with…” He gestures towards the entire rest of the house with a groan. “So I mean, whenever we start trouble I feel a little…bad I guess? So I’m sorry. Last time I’m saying it, human. Don’t get used to it.”

“Thank you.” 

“If you need me to help…I dunno? Sort things out? Get you out of a tough spot? Let me know.” 

Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes. Sitting on that vinyl floor alongside him, in the quiet cold of the night, feelings bloomed inside of you that you didn’t—couldn’t feel for the other brothers. Not just in shared trauma but receiving support for a change, rather than being automatically expected to give it. 

“Thank you.” 

At that moment, you kissed him. 

Slow and sweet. Closed mouth. Nothing extravagant or special. 

You parted, breathless. Something heated spiked inside of you and you simply wanted more. You dived in, this time curling your body around Mammon, scrambling into his lap as your mouths pushed together, tongues exploring and wanting more, more…

You pull away again. Mammon chuckled and kissed lines across your collarbone.

“I’ve rubbed off on you.” 

It became almost casual. Almost too casual. You’d been caught by the other six brothers at least twice each by now. Lucifer especially had been pissed, once discovering you and Mammon. Mammon’s mouth on your neck with you on the verge of splaying your legs right on Lucifer’s desk when he’d specifically called on Mammon, alone. You didn’t miss how hard the door slammed.

You also didn’t care. 

“I have to have all your kisses.” 

“I want you to.” 

“Yes.” He hissed, hand curling around your breast and kneading it. One of his knees slipped between your legs. You impotently tried to grind against it while Mammon laughed and teased you until you finally said what you’d been thinking for a month at that point.

“I want you to be my first.”

The look he gave you was the sort of hungry that demanded to be fed. If not for the fact that Lucifer would whirl around and set the entire house ablaze, he might have fucked you right then and there. 

Now here he is, tossing his jacket aside and trailing a warm hand down the column of your spine. You miss the confidence you had when you’d been pushed up against that desk with Mammon’s cock hard and insistent against you. A tremble runs through you and Mammon notices. 

“You’re sure now?” 

“Yes.” You say and move up, capture his mouth in another kiss. 

You want him to be your first. You aren’t nervous about him. You’re nervous about you. 

“Alright, sit back on the bed — towards the headboard.” 

You do as he says with your hands resting in your lap still.

Mammon crawls after you and presses a finger to your lips that trails down so slow it hurts. Slow over the tip of your chin towards your neck, then to the soft spot between your shoulders, the soft slope of your breast, down your stomach, and then to the hem of your dress that he grabs with both hands and raises so carefully above your hips. As if the fabric moving too quickly could burn you. 

Your hips are revealed along with a pink plain pair of underwear. You hadn’t really gotten the time to get something else. Mammon’s hand glances over the front of them.

“Am I really your first, first? Has no man even seen you before?”

You shake your head. Mammon makes an ‘ah’ sound. For the first time today, a hint of red blooms across his cheeks. “I have to make you…feel good first.” 

Perhaps you should’ve done more sexual things before leading up to this. Things like blowjobs or fingering. Back at your old life, long before you met the brothers, the girls around you would do downright filthy things before sex. Things you wouldn’t dare to. Maybe cringing away from them wasn’t the brightest move, now you have no idea what to expect. 

Mammon’s head settles between your legs. You can feel his hair brushing against your thighs and his breath near your more secretive areas. 

He holds one of your thighs and licks a wet line against your panties—right over your silt. You can feel the heat of his tongue through the fabric. Mammon pushes his open mouth against your panties again and mouths the wet line appearing in them. Does being a demon make him run hotter than most? His fingers are searing against your skin and you’re burning up. 

He pulls back, breathing hard. “Let’s get these off.” 

He hooks his thumbs into your panties. You lift your hips to help free you from them. The cold air of the room nibbles at your skin, but Mammon’s mouth replaces the panties soon enough. Hints of pleasure rise and instinctively you try to slam your thighs together. Mammon's hands stop you from trying to hide.

Mammon’s tongue swipes inside your folds, against your sweltering entrance. It earns an embarrassing mewl that you wouldn’t dare let anyone else hear. His finger finds your cilt and circles the bundle of nerves while his tongue licks and explores in places you didn’t let anyone else even touch. 

Breath rushes from your lungs, your hand knocks against the headboard, your hips twitch and squirm around him. Pleasure builds in the pit of your stomach, like a coil winding tighter and tighter and ringing the sounds right out of you. 

With a sound that’s downright filthy, Mammon’s tongue comes free, but his thumb doesn’t stop swirling. “Like that, do we?” His voice rumbles in your stomach alongside the approaching orgasm. It’s rougher than normal, throatier.

“Y-yeah.” You manage through your rising orgasm. It’s hard to hold onto any breath. Your hips twitch more, enough that Mammon’s grip hardens and you become more aware than ever before of the sharpness of his nails and the raw strength he holds.

Heat pools and spreads all through you and blooms through every part of your body. A tingle races through your toes. “I-I—” Your voice breaks into a shout as your orgasm hits you hard, hard enough to have you curl around where Mammon’s finger is. He doesn’t stop, finger still moving in that ruinous circle and teasing that bundle of nerves until your orgasm is a memory and your voice is a wavering, shaky line from over-stimulation and your nothing but a breathless mess. 

Mammon finally spares you, pulling his fingers back to his mouth to lick them clean. You collapse back onto the back, exhaling hard. That was different. Completely different from touching yourself. Completely different from the few you gave yourself, dreaming of someone far more experienced than you taking complete control. 

You sling one arm over your eyes. “Fuck.”

“Fun wasn’t it?” 

“I felt it in my toes.” 

His eyes widen. You aren’t sure why that, of all things, drives him forward. The few remaining threads of self-control Mammon has snap. He stands on his knees, tearing his shirt off and tossing it across the room. His belt follows, then he pulls down his pants and the tight black boxers and manages those off. His cock is hard and curved towards his stomach. His abs are tone, though he's definitely smaller than Beel. He's wearing a dangerous look in those beautiful eyes. 

"Fuck." You whisper. 

With one hand on each of your legs, he maneuvers himself between your thighs, heavy, flushed cock threatening to fuck you senseless any moment now. You reach up, rub a warm hand against his own. He looks at you through his white locks and smiles.

“I want it to be the greatest you ever have, something you’ll never forget, that no one could ever outdo.” He bites his lip and aims his cock at your entrance, head rubbing against your labia. 

Your heart is in your throat, you turn your head to the side. At this rate, you really could burn up into nothing.

“I tried to prepare you as best I could, okay? If it hurts, don’t be afraid to tell me.” 

The head of his cock glides smoothly against your clit before pushing inside of you. An uncomfortable stretch is enough to have you clinging to him and hissing quiet, pained sounds. Mammon’s labored breath burns the nape of your neck. A flash of his tongue makes the next inches more bearable. One of Mammon’s hands grabs your side and slides down to your waist as he pulls back, not even deep inside yet. 

Slow, shallow thrusts, gentle and probing, and a little deeper each time. You hadn’t thought your first time would be so slow but there’s not much pain to speak of, more discomfort really, until—

“Oh!” 

Mammon grins ear to ear. “There we go, babygirl.” 

He’s still trying to control himself but his thrusts are quickening. Your noises become more and more common until they’re outright moans. You put your arm over your mouth. You shouldn’t be making these sorts of sounds like this. The other brothers might hear you.

Mammon growls as if you’ve stolen from him. 

“Those moans belong to me.”

He presses your hand down to the bedspread and rolls his pelvis. You squeeze around him without meaning to; the sound the both of you make is heavenly, absurd. No doubt the rest of the house is now quite aware of what’s going on. 

Not that you could be bothered to care. 

Sweat slick white hair clings to his forehead, shrouds his half-lidded golden eyes. Little breaths and ‘ahs’ that escape his mouth are so cute and make you feel like you’re melting. Your free hand digs into the soft part of Mammon’s shoulders as your stomach tightens and the slapping sound grows wetter and wetter. Your body clenches around his cock, squeezing as your orgasm approaches. 

Mammon feels it when it starts, that rolling heat that left you shaking the first time. You cum again, wet cunt almost clamping down on him, sucking him in more than he was ever expecting like you’re trying to melt him. That pretty, broken voice moaning loud enough to let everyone in the house who ‘won’ in the end. Just imagine the looks on their faces, those fuckers stuck doing nothing but pulling their pricks while he lays his claim on you over and over again—.

“Fuck—” Mammon follows suit, climax racking his body as he finishes inside in strong, short thrusts. You make a whimpering noise at the sensation of being too full. 

With a sigh, Mammon collapses onto his side. No sound except both of you breathing heavily with the adrenaline fleeting and bodies spent, floating in post-coital bliss. 

You can’t manage any words, but you fall back in love as Mammon settles the blankets back on top of the both of you and swipes the stray hairs from your forehead, murmuring about how precious you are. 


	5. Belphegor 1 - Somnophilia [M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I been gone, but I'm back. Also chapters will vary more in length as these are drabbles and I'm trying to keep it casual plus I'm writing this on what's essentially my Wednesday for work. I haven't thought about this at all. Sorry for no updates. Also happy Thanksgiving.
> 
> Also I've got a sideblog now on tumblr as FilthDrabbles.
> 
> WARNING: Non-con, Somnophilia, molestation, degradation, 'yandere' themes/envy, slut-shaming.

Belphegor wasn’t one to wander in unannounced. If he had his way, he would’ve never been bothered, but your lack of availability meant Mammon would poke his nose around, looking for something ‘fun’ to do. 

Meaning he’d been woken up by Mammon and, lacking the energy to punch Mammon in his godforsaken mouth, moved downstairs to the guest rooms to find a better resting place. Where he came upon you. 

It had been a long week. The typical shenanigans of the House of Lamentation wore on you doubly as much, finals week was always a bitch. Exhaustion and stress radiated off of you in waves and on the way to the bed you’d left behind a trail of discarded shoes, socks, and a school bag unceremoniously dumped beside your side table. 

Test results wouldn’t come back for at least a week. If there was already news, you’d failed Diavolo would’ve already appeared to uppercut you back into the human realm. Until then, whether or not you did well was anyone’s guess. Between studying and the brothers managing to once again fuck with the laws of physics to where you’re actively calling anything in your actual physics class into question, time for anything else but sleep was out of the question.

Within ten minutes you’d curled into a ball in the center of your bed and snoozed off, school clothes still on and doomed to be wrinkled for tomorrow’s mess. 

Belphegor stood in the doorway momentarily. Then, thought better of it and shut the door behind him. 

He didn’t want anyone else ruining his fun. 

You looked like a fucking mess. Hair all ruined, sleeping, snoring—loudly, mouth open with a line of drool connecting you and the velvet purple bedspread...and sporting a boner. He snorted and rounded the bed, intending to simply sleep on the other side. When he got there and saw those pants riding low enough to show off a touch of your ass and your shirt lifted enough that he could see the dip, he crawled into it behind you instead. Why not? It’s not like anyone of worth was using it. And you were drifting off, no doubt thinking of other things. 

Fucking Christ. “Get rid of that.” Belphe groaned and slipped in behind you.  
After a few minutes, you still had a bulge proudly hard against the front of your pants. 

Humans would take themselves into their hands and pleasure themselves all the time. He couldn’t dare to think about what you thought about. With the singular exception of Beezlebub, none of the other brothers deserved anything. Not a crumb. Much less your time and attention. They all fawned over you anyway with no concern about what you did or what you were doing so…why?  
Belphegor pressed his body up against yours. Your normal human warmth was something to be admired, but it could be so easily taken away if someone were to hurt you. He chuckled, rounded his arms against your vulnerable form. You didn’t even stir. Were all humans so damn easy to get the drop on? 

He let his hands wander. Why not? Everyone else in the house was fucking you anyway. He spent minutes assuring himself that he only happened to be smoothing those school pants down your hips to your upper thighs and letting your cock free of its confines. Only happened to be touching your dick and stroking you to full hardness. Only breathed you in like air and have his own rising erection press up against the slope of your ass, wanting.

Pressing himself against your back and breathing in your scent. Your cock twitching in his hand and your body a trembling mess even in your sleep. Shocking. To think Asmodeus hadn’t leaped on the opportunity to take you himself. Someone so damnably easy. In minutes your cock is fucking fountain in his hand and his thighs, now squeezing against yours, are trembling hard enough that he’s double-checking whether or not your really asleep or just faking it so he’ll keep fucking you.

Turns out to be the former and not the latter. Belphegor tisked right into your ear. Drops of sweat were beading on your head. He wondered, for a moment, what could be going through that pathetic little mind of yours. One of Belphegor’s hands traveled underneath your school shirt, against the slope of your stomach, and skilled teal nailed hands toyed with your nipples until they hardened.

You were a mindless little slut, there’s no way you’d stick to one. Your head would bounce from fantasy to fantasy, never having the dignity to stick to one, like you would if not for their separate selfish desires. The real question was which brother was doing what to you? 

“Don’t think of anyone else but me.” He growled. 

You bucked into his hands. Your breath uneven, body taxed. What a lewd man.  
Belphegor knew it wouldn’t take much. He could flip you both over, wake you up, clutch those thighs in both his arms and just plow away. You’d scream and twist and shout his name like a wanton little slut, cock cumming without another touch. 

Belphegor shuddered against your back. 

Why did everyone else get so much more attention? 

“I swear if you think of anyone but me—.” 

With a blissful sigh, you came and painted both his hand and the sheets beneath you in a sticky mess. Belphegor’s hand stilled, and he simply looked on for minutes watching the cum stain the sheets and your body calmed as your sweat cooled. 

Then he got up, mechanically put himself through the motions of straightening himself out, fixing his hair, and licking the sweet cooled cum off of his fingers, before getting the hell out of there. 

Whatever you thought after waking up was not his problem or concern. It was your fault anyway, getting hard right after a single man crawled into bed with you. Pathetic.


	6. Satan 1 - Collar/Possession/Slave [F]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Why did you have good grades? Why couldn’t you have had shame instead?' 
> 
> Me while writing: Jokes on me, I lack both ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
> I intended to have Lucifer actually in the OG chapter, but I've re-written this three times. It's gotten out of control. Take it from me. Quickly.

“No.” 

You said firmly and shoved the glittery pink case back across the table as if it had insulted you. 

Satan blinked long and hard. When he opened his eyes up at you, a cheshire grin had spread across his face. Your stomach clenched up at the very sight of it. 

You wished you could say from fear. 

“No.” Shakier than the last. 

Satan cocked his head to the side. “Why not?”

Soft gold light fluttered over him and for a moment you could see how he was related to a literal fallen angel. Snakes have a more trustworthy smile. 

You took a sharp breath through your teeth and focused your eyes on the ceiling. That was always a good tactic. Keeping your eyes away from him for as long as possible. “It’s demeaning.” 

Satan laughed. You could feel his eyes roll. 

“Demeaning?”

The word leaves his lips like the concept of dignity offended him. It didn’t — the concept of your dignity offended him.

“Yes.” You spat. You shut your eyes at once. Otherwise, yours would meet his and it would be all over — Satan had that power over you now. He’d been working it up for months and you’d foolishly played along. Thinking back it’d been so damnably sly how he slowly alienated you from the others without breaking a sweat.

Every time one of the brothers asked you for a moment of your time, there he was, a soft and reassuring presence that never made itself too wide or too wild. When the insanity of the house grew overwhelming, he was quick to remind you how rarely he started trouble. Quick to remind you that the blame lied on someone else’s shoulders. Quick to push you to chastise one of the other brothers until they looked at you, lost, crestfallen. 

“Kitten.” He purred, sliding the box right back across the table to you. You couldn’t help but let your eyes drift down to the box, your stomach sinking as it sunk in how very, very thoroughly ruined you were that you were even considering it. 

Satan abandoned his seat and moved around the table to you. His arms bordered each arm of your chair as you stared at that damnable pink box. Heated breath ghosted over your shoulder. If your curious eyes didn’t betray your words, the shudder that went through you did. 

You felt a cold wind graze your spine and felt his silent command. Without a word you opened the box — inside was a pink collar, studded with silver and attached to a matching chain, long and thin like you’d keep a purse puppy on. And of course, an emerald right in front where a stud should be—Satan’s color.

A show of possession. 

The blonde devil was now curling his fingers through your hair and humming a gentle tune. You shut the box silently. A horrible feeling rose in your gut. Not at what you’d been given, but at your lack of disgust. Anyone else would’ve slapped the box to the floor and called Satan a madman. 

You groaned as your palms hit your face. 

Damn this man. 

“Isn’t it everything you’ve ever dreamt about?” 

You power all of your loathing into the glare you send him. It withers and dies taking one look at that knowing smile. You both know you’re going to put it on. At least that. It’s just a matter of time and effort. 

And luckily…or perhaps, unluckily for you, Satan is immortal and more than willing to try. 

His hands curl around your shoulders and message sweetly, their warmth filling you with something that threatens to cloud your judgment even more. 

“Tell me you don’t want it.” 

“Please.” You said, groaning before collapsing face-first into the table. Wanton desire had been unintentionally laced into the word. 

The little sigh that came from Satan that matched your voice in its raw, unabashed need made you clench your hips together. 

Why did you have good grades? Why couldn’t you have had shame instead?

“Come on, babygirl. My little kitten. Or maybe, if you put it on you could be my…little fuckdoll?” Satan carefully watched your express flicker between a rainbow of delicious fleeting feelings. 

Shock at the vulgarity, shame at how much you so obviously loved the idea, excitement at the prospect, fear of how it could all turn out. 

He loved that. He needed more of that. 

“Or maybe my precious filthy slut whose addicted to my dick, addicted to the fucking?”

He moaned and you felt something press against your side. Satan’s cock was hard against the front of his dress pants. A shiver traveled up your spine. You took a hiss in through the front of your teeth. 

“I shouldn’t. This is wrong, this isn’t why I’m here.”

Why even say that? It wasn’t like you were convincing Satan and even if you convinced yourself, you’d still submit. 

Satan clicked his tongue and one of his fingers pulled at the side of your lips. “You’re so damn focused on being good for Diavolo, good for Lucifer. Try being good for me for a change, won’t you? Don’t you want that? To be good for me so I’ll be good for you?” 

Your mind spun at the thought of all that could entail. 

“I wanna be good for you.” You whimpered, defeated. 

Satan gestured to the box again. You sighed and took the collar into your hands. Logic said it didn’t, but you could swear the little leather piece burned your palms as you picked it up. With a quick lick of your lips—that Satan certainly took notice of—you clipped the piece around your neck. 

It was soft against your skin. The weight of it wasn’t too much to bear but enough to force you to be present. You wouldn’t forget you were wearing it no matter what. The leather didn’t feel like it would turn sticky if it got…sweaty or wet. 

Something nice and specially crafted, just for you.

Rare, to find something like that in the Devildom.

A sharp tug at the back of your neck slammed you back into the present. You looked up at Satan, who looked down at you with the self-satisfied smile of a snake wrapped around its latest prey. 

“So, so pretty. Just for me.”

He pressed a tight-lipped kiss to your forehead. It felt freeing. You couldn’t get more pathetic than this could you?

Satan kept pressing tiny kisses to your temple as his free hand wondered your body. Deft fingers traveled from your shoulder to your breasts, where he squeezed hard enough to earn a pained mewl out of you. Satan stood ramrod straight, cock now painfully hard. Deceptive abrasiveness or not, how did the other brothers manage to keep their hands off of you? 

His starving hands found you again. One traveled up your shirt and kept a firm grip on your breast. The other into your pants and under your underwear to 

“Spread your legs for me, let me get at what’s fucking mine.” He growled in your ear. You hissed, the idea of telling him to fuck off being plucked out of your head the moment his finger managed to press against your clit. You spread your legs through grit teeth. 

“Kitten, be good for me. Like we both know you want to.” 

His whispers made you tense up. A distant part of your mind wished you could mute yourself, if only because that would mean you could deny him something. Kept some semblance of dignity. 

You couldn’t. Your hips shook and your mouth kept forming sounds of his name as those deft fingers teased your already hard clit, circled it so tantalizingly slow. Your head rolled to the side and your eyes fluttered closed. 

Satan licked his lips at the sight of it. Life with his brothers meant so little of anything got to truly belong to any one of them—and life with Lucifer meant having to give up anything fun or beautiful. The sight of you coming undone in front of him was something purely for him only for him to enjoy. He drank in the sound of you falling apart, the way your trembling thighs parted despite your charming, token resistance, how you whispered his name. 

If he could, he would freeze time to keep it forever. 

But then he’d miss out on the best part.

“Roll your hips against it, show me how you cum.” 

Your hips stuttered against your will as he brought you tumbling over the edge. Your essence covered his hand as you came, hair sticking to your forehead, out of breath, whispering a mantra of his name. 

Satan hissed and licked the half-translucent lines of your cum from his fingertips. 

Any of his brothers would have killed to have done that, to taste you, to see you.

…He couldn’t let anyone else have this. The very idea of someone else having this—of having any of you-many his blood boil. 

Satan stood up and smiled. “Kitten.”

You blinked through the first heavy wave of post-orgasmic bliss, only to be welcomed back to Devildom by that sinister smile once more. 

“I’ll give you a minute to rest.” The frost in his voice betrays his face. “Enjoy it, it’ll be the last hint of rest you get for a while.”


	7. Diavolo 1 - Daddy Kink/Size Difference [F]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're back with your irregularly scheduled programming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit as of 1/28/2021:   
> I'm sorry for not putting [f] in the title, didn't notice until literally just now. Sowwy :x

“You know, it’s funny—” Diavolo bites down on his lip to hold back another shaky moan. It unravels you to see Diavolo’s eyes close as he indulges himself in you. The raw heat of his cock threatens to swallow you whole.

Golden bracers on his arms border either side of your head as he pumps himself in and out of you, seeming to have lost his earlier statement in a well of pleasure. Your hands find his chest, a wall of muscle, and unholy strength and explore, scrapping your nails down the surface as his hips slowly grind his cock into your twitching pussy.

It tears a desperate plea from your chest that you’re glad the other brothers can never hear. Tears gather at the corner of your eyes for… some reason? Nothing ached, despite the protruding bulge of your lower stomach staring you right in your face.

If Diavolo notices, he doesn’t care. His mouth finds the side of your neck and bites down hard enough to make you see stars.

“It’s really funny.” He purrs, “I didn’t think of myself as wanting a human, but then you said that. Say it again for me, won’t you?”

The laughter in his voice bellies how much of a mess he’s made you. You’ve cum twice already and he’s had you teetering on the edge of orgasm for how long now? Fifteen, twenty minutes? Filthy slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy fill the room and his body heat is burning. Everything rests on the edge of too much and not enough.

“Daddy, please—”

“Fuck.” He says so low the only reason you can tell he’s even spoken is because of the movement of his lips. You’re quick to lean up and catch his mouth in a breathless, needy kiss. Diavolo moans, the sound is something heavenly. His hand finds your lower back and smooths up and down your shivering spine.

The day had started innocently enough. You were returning home from your classes, arms full to the brim with books and papers from your latest course. More recently your grades have been stellar, not just simple straight A’s but A+’s. The first you’d gotten in your history in the Devildom.

You’d like to think it’s simply you getting familiar with the material, but Lucifer’s lingering glares and disappointed ‘tisks’ at the last set of straight Bs you brought home were more of a driving force than anything else.

You were walking from the entrance to your room when lo-and-behold, Diavolo turned the corner and narrowly missed bumping into you head-on. You scrambled to re-steady yourself around your papers.

“Ah, Y/n.” He said.

You smiled. “Hello, Diavolo, nice to see you again.”

It was rare to see the King of the Devildom himself, walking around without his typical entourage of other demons or, at least, without Barbatos. Unlike other demons, the very sight of Diavolo was enough to calm you down. Not because he held no power to harm you, but his very presence ensured no other demons would cause trouble. To say nothing of the fact that you weren’t sure how far he wouldn’t go to protect you, worse come to worst.

Though, you didn’t want to find the limits of his hospitality.

You’d intended to walk around him — and did, but Diavolo turned right on his heel and followed you, as evidenced by his shadow swallowing yours.

This… wasn’t normal.

You wanted to ask him why he was following you. It wasn’t like he didn’t know where your room was but, the silence felt heavier than normal and so you let him follow you like a massive lost puppy.

“This is my stop.”

Diavolo hummed and followed you inside.

Alright, you’re missing something here. You set your homework down on the table and sat on the bed. Diavolo sat beside you wordlessly. The bed creaked in annoyance and dipped dangerously low.

You get the distinct impression hijinks have ensued in your absence.

“So, what’s up?”

“I was hoping you could help me…” He trails off, thick bushy brows bending inward before he can find the right word. “understand something.”

He pulled out his DDD and showed you messages of the brothers talking.

_Mammoney: It ’s official, Satan’s a tsundere._

_Asmobaby: Since when was he not?_

_Mammoney: No, you don ’t understand._

_Asmobaby: ?_

_Mammoney: See, all the hot girls at our school have this private board where they organize all the guys!_

_Mammoney: Every boy has like, a classification. Beez is the strong, silent type._

_Mammoney: Belphe ’s a yandere type._

_Mammoney: You ’re apparently the cute type. I mean personally; I think I’m more suited to that but you know different strokes, different folks._

_Asmobaby: >(_

_Mammoney: Levi ’s a nerd._

_Asmobaby: What about you?_

_Mammoney: The sexiest type there is, what else?_

_Lucifer: I doubt that._

_Asmobaby: So Satan ’s the girls’ official tsundere type?_

_Mammoney: Okay, yeah but the thing is now there ’s two ‘daddies’ they keep talking about without bringing up names._

_Mammoney: Think it ’s me? It’s probably me. Don’t lie. We all know it’s me._

_Asmobaby: No that ’s probably Lucifer and Diavolo._

_Lucifer: I ’ve never been a father to anyone._

_Stn:_ Agreed _._

The rest of the chat is the typical back-and-forth snide bickering between Lucifer and Satan, dotted with the occasional meme from Mammon making fun of both. Explains why you haven’t seen him this week, Lucifer’s probably taken his anger out on him and hung him from one of the ceiling lights by his underwear.

Diavolo, however, is much less amused. There’s a painful little twinkle glittering in his eyes. “Do the children at RAD consider me a father? Why is Lucifer also there? Have they married us and this entire time I haven’t known?”

You can’t stifle the laugh that tumbles from your mouth. It hurts to have to burst his bubble.

“Asmodeus is talking about it in a—erm, sexual way. They’re not saying you’re their Daddy.”

“Then why?”

Oh, that’s a fucking tale and a half. You’re stuck stammering for a full minute before you decide it’s worth the risk of embarrassment to explain.

“It’s a power dynamic thing.” You say. Part of the difficulty of explaining it is having to sidestep the no-doubt-soon-to-be-tread-by-some-unfortunate-soul minefield that is the unexcused absence of Diavolo’s father.

You turned your body towards Diavolo.

“For example, let’s say two people were doing something…sexual. One of them might call the other person Daddy as a sort of domination thing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You might—oh. God. You might say something like ‘fuck me Daddy’ or something when you’re in those sorts of situations, I don’t know.” You avoided eye contact like the fucking plague because holy shit, this is awkward. You’re laughing out of embarrassment with every word.

“Oh.” He whispered, taken aback. Your mouth goes dry at the narrowing of his eyes and how his gaze shifts from you to off in the distance. “Daddy.” He mumbled quietly.

“Daddy, yes.” You repeated. You couldn’t read his expression and sit there wondering if Diavolo’s going to blast you off the face of the Devildom for it. After what feels like an eternity of silence, he got up and crossed his arms.

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“Meet me at the castle, seven p.m. sharp. You’re not in trouble, but don’t be late.”

With that, he marched out the door.

You had no idea what to expect.

It was the Demon Lord’s castle, so the most you could do was brush your hair into something acceptable and put on your finest, most ‘upstanding’ outfit. A red chest to foot dress that sparkled like the sun. Lucifer picked it off a rack and shoved your way one day when it was clear you didn’t know what to wear yourself.

You remembered Lucifer’s face when you brought home C’s and decided to not tell the boys you were heading out. You didn’t want to imagine how pissed Lucifer would get if he found out you got called out by Diavolo.

When you got to the castle, Barbatos, not his master, opened the door. He looked you up and down for what feels like an eternity and then nodded. “Sloppy, but acceptable.” He said and allowed you inside, leading you quickly and quietly through repetitive identical golden halls that you’d be lost in otherwise.

“Barbatos, I know we don’t normally…talk, but is Diavolo upset with me?”

It wasn’t a comforting thought, but it was like Barbatos read your mind. “No. If he wanted you dead he’d have ordered me to do it.”

He presents you to a floor to ceiling golden door covered in carvings of angels and demons, bordered by two burning torches.

“The honorable, acting Lord Diavolo awaits you inside. Should you two require anything I will be outside listening to…everything.”

So a chewing out is it?

That you can tolerate.

You pushed one of the massive doors aside and slip in, shutting it behind you. Incense flooded your nostrils.

Diavolo sat there, rubbing his hands together as if trying to soothe anyway nervousness. Horns bared, wings just brushing against the bottom of the purple canopy bed. Candlelight illuminated the room.

“Hello?”

He glanced at you, not even registering you were there at first, then beamed ear to ear and motioned for you to approach him.

… Where was this going? Nothing about being in trouble or having opened up old wounds about old traumas. You walked over and took your hands into his and smoothed over them as if they were as fragile as glass.

“I’m so glad you came.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint, you’re usually so nice to me so,” You shrugged.

His tongue flickered over his lips. “That’s-that’s good. I wanted to—how do I?—”

He stopped and started again over and over before settling on, “This morning, I felt something strange.”

“When I called you Daddy?”

“Yes.” He pressed his soft lips to the palm of your hand.

Your heart took off like a racehorse. Just a minute ago you thought Diavolo might end your stay in the Devildom and you were almost fine with that fact Now there’s a glitter in those golden eyes and the heat of his skin is enough to sear your fingers.

“Say it again.”

You swallow. His dangerous growl drives trembles through your fingers.

Unlike you, he seems so serene. Calm, comfortable, confident. Seated and still towering over you with an expression that holds only minute touches of joy. A tiny smile and some light caressing.

This shouldn’t be a thing, but you can’t find it in you to calm down.

And he can’t either.

You take a deep breath. “Daddy.”

He exhaled hot enough for it to be visible and got up. Fuck, he’s fuck off huge. You strained your neck to look at him. His thumb grazed your lips, and he whispered, ‘pretty’.

Something inside you quivered, just knowing where it all was going, and yet you still dived in so willingly.

“Are you gonna fuck me, Daddy?”

You bit your lip.

Diavolo’s patience evaporated. He snatched you around the waist, propped your upper body on those pillows, and flipped your dress up. You opened your legs, stomach doing flips at the idea of everything he was doing. Months of each of those boys teasing you with the idea of intimacy and here Diavolo was, dumping it on you like a punishment.

He tongue fucked you like you were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. When you started wildly bucking into his mouth, needy for more, firm hands gripped you and held you tight to the bed. You ran your fingers through his hair as he dragged out your orgasm, tongue fucking you with a single-digit drawing tight circles over your clit.

Now his hand squeezes around your neck. It would teeter on threatening if you still had any sense left at all. His cock pummels into spots you never knew you had. His hips slap against yours until you can feel your insides melt and then just…keep…going.

“Please, please, please Daddy I want it.” You purr. Your lower body is a trembling mess of your cum and fluids leaking over his sheets. Diavolo’s mouth finds the side of your neck and breathes fire into your skin and _it’s too **much**_ —.

You cum again and chant his name like a meek prayer as he fucks you through it until the tiny tears that we’re tracking down your cheeks don’t compare to the over-sensitive sobs or the exhausted whimpers.

Diavolo backs away, leaving you empty and shaking around nothing.

“Fuck.” You whisper. A delightful soreness is already blooming in your thighs and the warmth that spread outward and absorbed you is melting into pleasant tiredness. You roll over to your side, curling in on yourself with nothing but the urge to sleep barreling through your senses.

“Make sure you get your rest” His hand smooths over your flank. You see his cock is still hard and pulsing in hand. “You’re my little princess now. When you wake up, I’ll make sure you’ll want to be mine forever.”


	8. Barbatos 1 - Forced Oral, Cock Servicing [GN]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know we've already done oral...and I was supposed to do Asmo...and there's no real sex in this one...and its super short...and Barbatos is OOC, but I had to do this because my brain would allow me no rest. 'Rough, detached, clinically pleasure seeking and secretly kind of a sadist' Barbatos haunted me. Plus it's a GN reader.  
> On a side note one day I really will write a sex slave AU. Like it's going to happen to a fandom. My head has images that can only be sated with FILTH. 
> 
> Also, if you're under 18 you shouldn't be here. Like that's fucking obvious but seriously if you're a minor you need to leave cause this shit ain't okay.

“Sorry about this.” Barbatos says, flatly.

You doubt he means it.

His thumb is stuck between your teeth, and his hand is at the back of your neck. Gravel bites into your knees and hands. The dim light of the alleyway, and the tears threatening to spill, makes it difficult to see. The scent of brimstone and peppermint floods and burns your nostrils.

You’d scream for help, but you’re scared of what he might do if you do anything other than keep his cock in your mouth.

“Normally, I don’t engage in this sort of behavior, but if there’s anyone in the Devildom who has us all trying new things…”

Barbatos trails off, his eyes shutting closed and head hanging down. He looks so focused in this moment, so enraptured in the feeling of having you. If it weren’t for the oxygen deprivation, you could swear that one of his thumbs brushed against the back of your neck. He sighs and then pulls you back to sputter and scramble for oxygen.

“…It’d be Diavolo’s favorite little human.” Biles rises in your throat at how sweet his voice sounds. All the worse when you know it’s an act. Even assuming sarcasm, Barbatos barely shows emotions at the best of times.

“I didn’t think it’d feel this good though.”

He smiles and you brace yourself. He shoves you back into his cock in a single hard thrust that has you coughing around him, but unable to reject his hold or bite down. All you taste is leather and flesh. It’s so much more impersonal, clinical almost. Befitting.

One moment you’d been out on a walk to get something for the boys, maybe a bat cupcake for Beezlebub, then you were snatching into an alleyway and told to be quiet or he’d fucking end you. The next moment, Barbatos knocked you to your knees and pried your mouth open.

He pulls you back quicker this time. If you could gather the energy or thought you’d have laughed at his lack of stamina, if it meant getting something out of this charade. Knowing Barbatos now (because you’re damn sure you didn’t know him before) he’d probably insult your stamina before keeping his dick in your throat long enough to make you pass out.

“Look at that.” He gave your cheek a squeeze before slapping it, harder than last time but not enough to hurt. “That’s…favorable.” He blinks. You shudder. You can’t see what he sees in you, all you know is that you must look like hell between the lack of breath, the face slapping and the spit.

His thumb now strokes your cheek with all the gentleness of a lover. Every swallow and sputter echos pain through your throat. “I didn’t believe it. Then I heard you fuck Diavolo, and who wouldn’t be curious?”

Back down again. Your mind is an empty cloud of sensations; the rough drag of Barbatos’ spit slicked cock against your throat, smooth leather against your cheek and holding your mouth open. Something resembling gentle circles being rubbed against the back of your neck.

When you come up, black splotches dot your vision. You take huge lungfuls of breath hoping to ease the ache in your chest but only end up coughing more. Barbatos looks down at you with a coy smile, kind of like how a sick child would look at an ant they’ve stomped to death.

“Look straight.” Barbatos’ lightly slaps you with the tips of his fingers.

After minutes you regain breath, with red puffy eyes and lashes stuck together by tears.

“Diavolo isn’t-he will not like this.”

Barbatos cocks his head and chuckles. “Diavolo isn’t here right now, and he never said you were off limits. Whatever you could hope to accomplish by telling him will fall flat. I guarantee it. I’ll even admit it if you tell him in front of me.”

Something in your heart gave a brief, painful pang. He had a point; they were demons with thousands of years of connections and attachment and powers beyond imagination. You were one weak little human they could discard and get a carbon copy of at a moment’s notice. Barbatos could travel through time lines, grab another one of you and have his way with that one and the next one and the next one until the end of time. Hell, why not get another one for the King, every demon brother in the House of Lamentation and himself? You were replaceable, especially for him.

“Now, are you going to be good for him or be good for _me_?”

“For you.” You say, despite yourself.

His smile sends an awful shiver down your spine. “Wise choice. Back down then.”

Barbatos shoves your head back down, pulling you by your hair up and down the length of his shaft. You can feel his release building up in your throat and a horrible tightening feeling in your stomach says that part of you isn’t dismayed.

For the first time in all this awfulness, Barbatos makes a slight note of pleasure. It’s a low, growly thing that scrapes against your ears. How he seeks his own pleasure and disregards your obvious pain. He’s nothing like Diavolo.

Even thinking that hurt. Would this be any better if he were pleasuring you? You’d wince if you could—he got to you.

His cock leaves your mouth at last, still tied to you by long, stretchy lines of saliva. Barbatos’ eyes flutter closed, and he’s visibly trying to control his breathing. For you it’s more desperately seeking breath, ignoring that strange knotting feeling in the pit of your stomach and trying to force your mind to function. You don’t know why you would. The quicker you can forget all of this, the better.

“I can’t do this anymore. This has to end.” Barbatos says. You could swear there was a hint of disappointment in his voice, but you’ve never been happier.

He doesn’t give you time to rest; he shoves his cock back inside to the hilt and fucks your throat. You gag, throat clenching around his length. His orgasm is right there, ready to blow, and it’s like he keeps shoving it off—until his voice breaks and goes higher and he’s shuddering, body becoming this almost weak, mortal thing as his cum fills your throat and heads straight down into you. His voice easily escapes, needy, broken moans echoing through your ears but not a note reaching anyone outside, anyone who could help you.

He stays there, holding you. You blink in and out of being able to hear or see, and eventually he shoves you back and away from him. Cold, unfeeling concrete feels like a safe haven. Yes. You’re safe here. You lie on your back, spit and pre-cum covering your mouth and around your cheeks and a terrible scratchy feeling in your throat that never goes away no matter how much you swallow.

Barbatos clears his throat and straightens himself out. From the corner of your eye you see him putting himself back in his pants, before you can’t stand looking at him anymore.

“That was delightful.”

You’d give anything to insult him back. Something biting and awful. Something that would destroy him on the inside like you feel. Yet, if there’s any creature in the Devildom that lacks insides…

“Do let me know when you’re done lying around. I wouldn’t fault you for it. Being used up by a demon, it can be a rough experience. Plus, you might want to…take care of a few things yourself.” He chuckles again.

You curl around yourself and into a little ball. You don’t want to be here right now. with Barbatos practically flaunting that he knew how turned on you were the entire time.

“…F-fuck off.”

Barbatos slowly walks over to you. Every step he makes echoes through the alley. Until his shadow looms over you and you can feel it, even though you don’t dare to open your eyes.

“I apologize, I would gladly do as you asked however you were recently attacked, weren’t you?” It’s the servant's voice. The one you almost confused for his real one and now it’s revealed to be the belittling, condescending, overly concerned bullshit that anyone else would read it as. “I’m sure Lord Diavolo will want me to take extra steps in ensuring you return to the Devil’s Castle safely, before you return to the House of Lamentation.”

Every word claws at the remaining spider-thin strands of your sanity and patience. Any more of this and you might scream. He’s not even letting you go home, you can’t go home, and he’s going to follow you to Diavolo and listen to you and probably stand there, smirking while you—

“Please, please just stop, just stop.” You say, voice scratchy beyond all hell and breathing in your throat. Tears of misery bring dripping down your face. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Barbatos doesn’t speak for so long that a tiny flash of hope burns in your heart that he may have shrugged his shoulders and left, decidedly leaving you to your mess. He crushes it when he drags his hand against your arm’s flank. You wince away, whimpering.

“No.” He says, plainly. “I haven’t fucked you. Not yet. You rolling around in the dirt looking miserable is actually a marvelous sight and I’m not Lord Diavolo. I won’t be gentle. I won’t care if you can’t walk after, and I don’t care who sees. So, if you’d like to be carried to the castle like a conquered princess then by all means keep doing that. Otherwise, _get it together._ "


End file.
